Knowing
by Deanaholic
Summary: Sequal to UNKNOWING. Sam is on a mission to prove he isn't crazy. His first step, find the brother that got him into this mess. But first he needs to break out of his prison, the Insane Asylum. A little help is in order from a fellow patient.
1. White Walls

White walls. White walls are blinding, even in the dark. I can even see them through my paper thin eyelids when I close them tightly against the world I am stuck in. The white walls are my prison and there is no escape from them.

It wasn't always this way. A few months ago I was a functioning member of society; I was normal. That is, until I got involved with the brother I had always thought had a few screws loose. He had been committed in a mental hospital for the better part of his life.

That is, until I broke him out to try and discover what had happened to my mother. Then all hell broke loose, literally. These delusions the doctors had spoke so adamantly about, were real. Everything he had imagined, was reality.

But, reality has a way of sneaking up on you. As it turns out, I was the one in the asylum. But I now know the truth. I had followed my brother, seen what he could do, and I need to break out of the white walls and get to him. Something isn't right. I'm a hunter, not a lunatic.

And I'll prove it, somehow…

I'm Sam Winchester, and I am not crazy.


	2. rewards

I

They stare at me as if they think I can't see them. Their inquisitive eyes are always trying so desperately to figure me out. They study me like some sort of lab rat in a maze. I just smile back. I try to act as normal as I can, but there in lay the problem. Try to hard to look normal, and you're delusional; act to happy, and you're manic; keep to yourself, and you're antisocial or depressive. I can't win in this place. Apparently, there is a fine line between normal and crazy.

I don't talk to anyone here. What's the point? They're all either nuts or doctors. Not that they let me out of my room often. I guess the term they use is 'harmful to himself and others'. At least they aren't strapping me down anymore, though I'm sure that won't last.

I hate it here. I don't belong. I'm going to get out. It's cruel and unusual what they do. Drugs and therapy, HA. More like torture and coercion. Dean was right. They break you down until they convince you that there is something wrong with you, then build you back up to fit into their mold of society.

It's lunch time now, I can hear the squeaking wheels of the little cart as it's pushed by the orderly. From he sound of it, I'm next. They'll slide the slop they call food through the door slot and I'll eat it as they watch, just so they make sure I don't steal the plastic spork I'm provided with for future self mutilation. Like I would ever actually hurt myself on purpose. I'm trying to escape, but not in a body bag. I wonder what today's menu has in store?

I hear the slot open with a high pitch squeak. The orderly peeks through and I look over at his dark, cold eyes. "Sam Winchester?" He calls out. As if he doesn't already know who I am. I don't acknowledge him. He pushes the tray trough and I slide off what passes for a bed to take it. I do have to eat.

For the third time this week, It's a cold grilled cheese sandwich with some sort of soup and a juice box. Sometimes I wonder if they think we're perpetually five years old. He nods at me, a signal to hurry up because he has much better things to do then watch me eat a sandwich. Personally, I don't blame him. Then again, I'm not feeling very cooperative today. I eat my disgusting food, very slowly. Bite by bite, I see him getting more and more annoyed. It's the little things that make me happy these days.

Once I'm done, he takes the tray and moves on and I'm back to staring at white walls. I know what comes next and I dread it everyday. Therapy time with Dr. Michaels. Once again, Dean was right. Dr. Michaels has absolutely no problem using 'special methods' to weed out your inner crazy.

I wonder what it will be today? It all depends on the mood he's caught in as to what you'll expect to happen. Sometimes it's just talking. Other times, when he's feeling creative, it'll be drugs, water treatments, sensory deprivation, and so on…

I hear the click of my lock and see the door swing open in my peripherals. I don't need to look at him to know he's there, He'll announce himself in a second.

"Good afternoon Sam," He says with that air of superiority all doctors seem to have about themselves. "How are we feeling?"

"Nice and sane." I respond, and I hope he catches the hint of insolence I so love to slip into my sessions with him. I can see in his face and the way he shakes his head that he caught it. Despite my best efforts I can't bring myself to call him stupid. On the contrary, the man is sharp as a tack and never misses a beat.

"Stubborn today I see." He responds without hesitation. I simply shrug. No need to

respond if he already knows my answer. He throws in a quick "Right." and motions the orderly for a chair. The orderly obliges and stands behind it like some sort of bodyguard. It's insulting really.

"I want to talk to Dean." I say. I've said it everyday for the last 4 months, ever since I learned the truth about myself.

"Now you know I can't do that Sam." The good doctor says with his indifferent sneer. "You know your brother has his own life and doesn't want to see you."

I laugh a little. "That's a lie."

His heavy sigh indicated he's had enough of this conversation and plans on moving in a new direction. "How are your headaches?" He asks.

Recently, I've been having intense pain in my head. It reminds me of that time in the hotel room, just before I woke up in this hell hole with Dean telling me he doesn't want to deal with his crazy brother. But, with these new headaches, I haven't seen anything. No visions, no images. Just darkness and pain. I haven't figured out if they are a part of the psychic gift Dean spoke of, or something completely benign, like a simple headache.

"They're fine." I say through clenched teeth. I really want to get back on the subject of Dean, But I also have to watch my temper. If it flairs up, there's a good possibility something bad will happen to me.

Suddenly, the good doctor smiles at me. A genuine smile. It takes me by such surprise, that I know the face I made would have been priceless to see.

"Sam, you've been very good for the last week." he says. "You haven't gotten in any major fights, you haven't bitten orderlies, and you haven't tried to make a hasty exit."

I was actually planning another escape attempt in the next few days, but he didn't need to know that. I kept my face as impassive as I could muster until he got to his inevitable point.

"What do you say to a little public interaction?" he says.

"I'm not quite sure how to take that. Does he mean I can leave the building? As quickly as I thought it, it was gone. A week of good behavior didn't warrant a release from the premises. But what did he mean?

The look on my face must have been enough for him to continue, because that's exactly what he did. "I'm going to start letting you have dinner in the main patient cafeteria. Under close watch, of course."

I felt my jaw hanging open. "What?" I asked in disbelief. For the entire length of my stay, Dr. Michaels had been very adamant about me staying away from the patient population. Again, the 'harmful to himself and others' diagnosis came to mind.

"I think a little interaction would be good for you."

"So, you think me talking to a bunch of crazies is good for me?"

He laughed, "Sure. Why not be with your own kind? Every living thing needs interaction."

"My own kind." I repeated, but let it drop. This could be a very opportune moment. A chance to interact, get out of this white cell, case the place. I've only really seen my room, the hallway outside my window and the shower room (on the rare occasion they let me have an actual shower.)

He smiled at me again, but said no more. He closed his little file folder on me and made his way to his next patient, the orderly locking my door as they exited.

I wondered to myself as I lay back on the mattress, is this a trick or an actual reward for some sort of perceived good behavior? I also wondered when this 'reward' would take effect and wat t would be like. I really hadn't had any human interaction outside Dr. Michaels, the random nurse, and the orderlies. I remembered when I had broke dean out of this situation, the types of people that were kept in this place. Who would I meet?

I would find out soon enough…


	3. Dining hall experience

II

I wasn't very optimistic that the doctor was going to keep his word. After all, I knew what they said about me. _Danger to self and others_, _delusions of persecution_, and _fantastical imagination_ were some of my personal favorites.

However, to my utter surprise, an orderly came at promptly 5:00 to take me to the dining hall. He looked none to happy about it. I guess my reputation as a problem is more of an annoyance to those who work at this place.

In the dining hall, they watched me very closely. I don't think the orderlies approved of the doctors decision to let the animal free. The dining hall was nothing special, despite what the doctor might think. Some reward. The walls were still a bright white, aside from the several food spots that dotted the painted concrete. The tables, typical high school cafeteria issue, were also a white color. I was seriously starting to wonder why white was considered so calming?

The people, my own kind as the doctor put it, were just as I imagined. Some were licking the walls, the tables, or even each other while others were talking to their cold food as if it were talking back. My own kind. I was insulted by this perceived hospitality, or rather, gift for good behavior from the good doctor. What did he take me for?

I sat quietly at a table by myself with two very large orderlies watching me from a distance. I shook my little cup of juice at them with a grin and they just continued to stare. Though, I'm sure I saw a heavy sigh from the one on the left, Score! Well, dinner wasn't much better then lunch. Cold pizza, juice, and a pudding cup…but no silverware, which was expected. I poked at the pizza, sniffed it, and decided I'd rather go hungry. I turned my attention to the pudding cup, how bad could a sealed plastic cup of chocolate substitute be? I was just about to open it when I sensed someone approach me from behind. Instinctively, I tensed up and prepared myself for whatever was coming toward me.

"I see you're enjoying your dinner." said the sarcastic voice. The person moved from behind me and sat on the bench directly across from me. It was a woman, maybe 20 or so, grinning at me through ratty blond hair.

I glared at her. "And you are?" I asked, a little annoyed that my pudding cup experience had now been interrupted. She picked a piece of cheese off of my pizza and popped it into her mouth. I was more then a little grossed out being that, having sniffed the thing, I was pretty sure it had gone bad.

She leaned in close, "I'm just like you. I'm crazy, psycho, off my rocker insane!" she responded, waving her hands manically on the word insane to emphasize her point.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, really not interested in talking to this person. I proceeded to open my pudding cup, but could still feel her eyes watching me. I glared up at her again, "What?"

"You gonna eat that?" she asked, watching my hands.

"Uh, yeah. I planned on it." I answered back. Then I placed my pudding cup down and gave her my full, undivided attention, which is what she undoubtedly wanted. "Is there something you want from me? Is that why your pestering me?"

She was unfazed, "Nope. Just wanna talk."

"Maybe I don't wanna talk." I retorted.

"Fine. I'll talk, you listen." She said with a wide grin, "It all started a long time ago in a galaxy far far away…"

I rolled my eyes and held up my hand to silence her before she began reciting Star Wars to me. "Please, leave me alone." I asked, almost begged. Then a thought came to mind. Maybe I could scare her off. "I'm criminally insane and might eat your soul!" I said loudly, this time it was I who waved my arms around wildly for emphasis, "I cannot be responsible for my own actions!"

She was unmoved by my theatrics, looking at me as if I were the crazy one. She leaned in close, really close. "Gotta have a soul before it can be eaten, Sam."

I was shocked. She knew my name! She knew me. But how? I had been in isolation the entire time I had been in this hell hole. I knew she could see she had struck a nerve with me. Suddenly, she didn't seem as crazy as before. In fact, she had suddenly become my new best friend.

"I…How…who…" was all I could manage through my stupor.

"Let me guess," she said calmly and more normally then she had been previously speaking to me. "Who am I and how do I know your name?"

I nodded idiotically. Maybe now the answers were going to come. Maybe now I could get myself out of here and find Dean.

"It's written on your tray." she said. And as quickly as my hopes had been inflated, they had been popped and stomped on by a stupid technicality. She stood and glared down and my own undoubtedly defeated form and smiled. "Well, that and it's a small circle we run in, Sam. Not to hard to miss one of us if you know what your looking for."

I glared at her again, disbelief and confusion fought for dominance in my brain. "Are you a…"

"Hunter?" she said, finishing my question for me. "Well, I guess that's something you'll have to ask me next time we see each other. Dinners over and your bodyguards are on their way over."

"What's your name?" I managed as the two large orderlies grabbed me from my seat and proceeded to drag me out of the dining hall.

"Katie." she called back.

***

"So, How was your first dining hall experience, Sam?" Doctor Michaels said the next afternoon during our therapy session. I was reluctant to mention anything of the girl I had met and of the new found hope I had in getting myself away from this place.

"Fine." I answered with a weak smile. "Haven't had pudding in a while."

"The orderlies mentioned that you made a friend." He added, ignoring my pudding comment. Shit. I had forgotten about the orderlies watching me like hawks. So I simply nodded warily. "Why don't you tell me about her?" he asked, a knowing and smug grin on his face.

I shook my head, trying to come up with the best possible answer. Since he already thought I was nuts, might as well tell the truth. He wouldn't believe it anyway. "She's a hunter, like me."

"Ah, so you met Katie." He said with out a second thought. "I should have guessed as much. It's so rare to have two people with the condition such as yours and I guess you would be drawn to each other. I thought we had moved past her delusions and now she's feeding them right to you. I suppose I'll have to talk to her about that."

"No!" I shouted unexpectedly. I knew what his talks had involved. I know because I still have the scars to prove it.

"No?"

I managed to calm myself down, "I mean, she didn't mean anything by it. She was obviously crazy."

"Uh-huh." the doc said with a cocky raised eyebrow. Then he wrote something quickly in my chart and excused himself. "I have other patients. Stay on your best behavior Sam."

No, he couldn't just leave. Now I had to know I hadn't just screwed up my one chance. "Doc!." I yelled after him. "Please don't hurt her."

He turned with a know-it-all grin and simply said, "This is a place of healing. We do not hurt anyone."

Which was a flat out lie.


End file.
